Forceful Revenge
by RosieRose
Summary: Sequel to my first fanfic, A Force of Nature. Jack/Schuyler post bonding. Their troubles have only just begun... Disclaimer: not my book or characters. I wish. Please R&R!
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE: Gravity is Old News

_Hello again, my lovely reviewers. And all of those people who read but don't review. It's really not very nice of you, you know. How do write your name in my dedications if I don't know it? Jokes, jokes. I just love your reviews. 3_

_To anyone who didn't read my first story, you probably should. It's called _'A Force of Nature'_, and this is the SEQUEL. I mean, feel free to read this anyway, but you may not get it. In fact, I know you won't get it ;). _

_Xoxo RosieRose_

Time stood still. Actually, no. That's not entirely fair. Time slowed _down _makes more sense. Schuyler van Alen –now Schuyler _Force_ – paused at the doorway. Was this the best thing? Surely there was a less painful means of doing this; for all parties. Jack, Allegra, Schuyler – even Mimi. Especially for Mimi. Odd as that sounded, their relationship was still uneasy… but it was more frosty than furious.

*****

'She was always jealous of this, you know', Jack murmured into her neck. The pale-pink rosettes that seemed to be held together with little more than air, and accounted for most of what was holding her ball gown up, quivered in time with her breathing. Schuyler had often had more than a little trouble with her nerves before a big show, and this wasn't even a big one. This was _massive_. In fact, if it wasn't for the pushiness of her model booker, she wouldn't even have agreed to do it. And she could see their point, a little. She was supposed to be _the_ next hot thing – yet she rarely ever accepted offers from companies. As Bridgette had put it, in her clipped London accent, 'Honey, there's exclusivity and select, and then there's just plain troublesome.'

'You mean Mimi? What did _she_ have to be jealous of?' She blushed slightly, aware that the apprehension in her voice could be misinterpreted as fear of Mimi. But Jack seemed to understand what she was asking. He tightened his arms around her tiny waist, pulling her in closer towards him. Gently, he angled the pair of them so they were facing the antique full-length mirror supplied by the designers for last minute alterations. Each looked just as perfect as the other; Schuyler standing in front of Jack with his hands rested on her shoulders. Like a pose from a photograph taken long ago.

'_This_', he told her. 'You. And Bliss, of course. I used to know her like the back of my hand, and I could tell she wanted what you have. She _feeds_ on adoration. It's practically an addiction. Sitting in life's front row isn't good enough for her. She has to be on stage.' He shuddered slightly, burying his face on her shoulder. He kissed her neck, and then her cheek, leaving what she was sure must be visible burns as he did. 'I love you, Sky. I. Love. You.' He spun her round suddenly, so they were facing each other.

Schuyler felt light-headed. She breathing was quick and shallow, like she imagined her heartbeat was as well. And then he was kissing her properly, probably smudging her base-makeup beyond help. It really didn't matter, because in his arms she felt real, and solid, and _safe_. She pressed herself as close as she could against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. He sighed against her lips, sending another shockwave down her spine. Schuyler opened her eyes for a second, the intensity of his kisses taking her by surprise. What she saw over his shoulder made her giggle. He paused for a second, pulling back, confused. The warmth of his chest against hers dissipated quickly, leaving her oddly cold.

'What? Why are you laughing?' Jack was obviously mystified, but willing to go along with whatever it was she wanted. _He was too good to her_.

_No_, he replied silently. _I'm really not_. You _are too good to_ me. _What was it that made you laugh?_

_It's nothing… _His cloudy green eyes were demanding an answer. _Oh, well. Um, it's your mask!_

She pointed to the black Venetian mask balanced on top of the many shelves crowded with accessories. The mask was actually eerily similar to the one Jack had worn at the Four Hundred after party – the night where they had kissed for the second time, without Schuyler knowing who it was underneath.

And it was just luck that a mask like that was hanging on one of the overcrowded hooks, and coincidence that Schuyler had spotted it. The dressing space backstage must have contained a hundred masks. That was the way that Lucy Wren liked to work. Her models were used to it by now, and were no longer phased about her suddenly changing her mind ten minutes before a show, deciding that the dress was _all wrong_ and swiftly restyling. Therefore, backstage was littered with all kinds of different 'fashion essentials'. But to Schuyler (who before the whole Bluebloods thing started had been a firm skeptic), it didn't feel like luck or coincidence – it felt like fate.

*****

Rita was the goddess of backstage. She had being doing her job for God knows how long, and knew how to get the models in line; how to get the make-up artists and stylists to do their thing properly; but most of all, she knew what a good look was when she saw it. The new girl they had hired for the night, van Alen, her name was. _Well Rita_, she thought to herself. _You weren't sure about her from the start, but the girl is a style _genius. Completely unintentional of course. Her painstakingly applied make-up had run and smudged (all over the Force boy's mouth), and her delicate rose dress was all crumpled – it was perfect. She looked haunted and ethereal. Lucy was going to _love_ this.

'I love it'. Lucy had taken one look at the guilty-looking teenagers (who obviously thought they were in trouble) and insisted they both 'just had' to go into the show. Jack was wearing his new silk mask, and they had found a bow-tie from somewhere and tied it sloppily around his neck. Add a one-off Lucy Wren Tuxedo jacket in 'military navy' and a set of LW jeans so smooth and black they could have been suit pants and he was officially 'perfect'.

*****

Jack looked a little ill. If he hadn't been the legendary Jack Force, Schuyler would have said he looked very nervous. Stage fright. She remembered that Bliss did the same thing too. She was fine as soon as she got out there, though. _Are you going to be okay_? She ventured, concerned.

_Yes_, he said, at once. _I'll be fine_.

Schuyler walked out first, almost drifting along. Her delicate skirts reached all the way to the ground, so it actually appeared as if she was walking on air. Go to the end of the catwalk, pose, pose, snap. Walk back out. Unfortunately, Ms. Wren had failed to consider 'the shoes' when she insisted the model 'glide down the catwalk. Come on, glliide'.

In the single heartbeat where her heel caught her dress and she knew she was going to fall, right at the head of the catwalk, Jack caught her eye and she could tell he knew what was going to happen just a well as she did. But before she could even start to topple, jack was right there, just as he always was – ready to catch her when she fell. None of the redbloods in the audience noticed a thing, only the handsome boy and the beautiful girl up there in the lights, looking for all the world as though they belonged together.

If only they knew.

_Like it?_


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: Those Less Fortunate

_Um. Well. As you can__ see, my school has kindly provided me with a new laptop. (Little bit late guys. Just FYI.) So, it's been a while since I've done this… but I'm giving it another shot. Hope you all like it!_

In the single heartbeat where her heel caught her dress and she knew she was going to fall, right at the head of the catwalk, Jack caught her eye and she could tell he knew what was going to happen just as well as she did. But before she could even start to topple, Jack was right there, just as he always was – ready to catch her when she fell. None of the redbloods in the audience noticed a thing, only the handsome boy and the beautiful girl up there in the lights, looking for all the world as though they belonged together.

_*****_

'Darlings!' Lucy cried, waving them over. All the models crowded around her in the cramped backstage studio, waiting for the critique that would make or break their careers.

'Darlings, that was marvelous! A huge success! Everyone was raving!'

Sophia, the blond standing next to Schuyler sniggered under her breath.

'They aren't the only ones,' she muttered. Now that the show was over and the seal of approval given, she felt perfectly entitled to make snide cracks on the dubious sanity of the designer. A few of the girls standing closest tittered in amusement, or possibly just suck up to Sophia. And they would. In the dog-eat-dog world of modeling, you didn't want to be on the wrong side of the Queen Bitch.

Schuyler frowned disapprovingly, but remained silent. She did not particularly feel like picking any fights this evening.

'And so,' Lucy finished exuberantly, 'we're all going to Marcello's for some champagne! My treat!'

Sophia looked simply furious. '_Marcello's_? Is she nuts? I mean, of course she is,' she added, laughing angrily. 'Perhaps she wants to be the next _big_ thing in plus sizes fashion?'

Schuyler was confused. 'What's the matter?' she asked Sophia. 'Maybe she's just being nice?'

'Nice? Oh no, sweetie. I've known her a long time. A show will be a success. Good! Great! And then she'll take us out for drinks - and she'll get _totally_ smashed, and won't let us leave 'til we've "_eaten some of this_ exquisite _dessert, darlings_.' And then, get this, when we turn up the next morning, she'll fire some of the girls for "_looking bloated_".'

Schuyler frowned. 'But then, if that's true, she'll have to fire all her models.'

Sophia nodded. 'Yep. I bet she's decided everything's getting too simple and too much of what people expect, so she's going to shake it up. With a whole new set of girls. Again.'

Lucy joined them then, and pulled Schuyler towards her by the shoulder. The older woman's long nails closed like a steel trap around her slender limb (or maybe it was just Schuyler's imagination after what Sophia had said).

'Sophie,' Lucy rasped. 'You simply _must_ come with us.' Sophia nodded her blond head regally.

'Of course,' she agreed, a hard edge to her voice. 'It will be _such_ fun.' Apparently, Lucy noticed nothing, giving a smile that managed to show every single one of her very white teeth. The effect was rather off-putting.

'Marvelous. Now, Schuyler, precious, I'm afraid you mustn't come with us this time. I know Bridgette would kill me, keeping you out so late! Go home with that yummy friend of yours; get plenty of beauty rest for tomorrow!' Lucy beamed at both of them, letting go of Schuyler's arm. She felt sure there would be five little angry crescents left from her fingernails.

A large man wearing dark glasses and a suit sidled up and muttered something in Lucy's ear. She nodded, typing frantically on her Blackberry at the same time.

'Girls,' she announced loudly. 'The limo's are here! Let's go!'

There was a ragged cheer from the assembled girls. Schuyler saw many of the more experienced models exchanging gloomy looks, whilst those who were first-timers (like herself) were beaming with feverish excitement.

Sophia half smiled at Schuyler, blowing her a kiss and then following the others out of the stage doors into the night – looking for all the world as though she was being led to her execution.

*****

Jack pulled the shiny silver Jaguar up to the front of the building, letting the engine idle as his… what? Soul-mate? Partner? Wife? Schuyler had made it clear to him she preferred 'girlfriend' if only because she didn't want to be the only high school senior with a husband. He got that.

Regardless, the car idled as she descended the steps towards him, dark hair blowing out behind her in the cool autumn air*.

For one moment, he got a flash of memory so powerful he couldn't see what was really happening in front of him. Schuyler, in some faraway place; coming down ancient stairs to meet him – except it was different. Instead of her jeans and t-shirt, she was garbed in a stiff dress and corsets. She wasn't hurrying, but approaching reluctantly. And when the memory-Jack looked into her eyes, they were closed to him.

He was shoved back into the present, shaken. It hadn't been Schuyler, but her mother. Gabrielle. But that was over now. It may have taken him centuries to realize it, but he'd been looking for someone else. Not all-controlling love with his twin, not unreciprocated love with someone out of his reach.

Schuyler pulled open the passenger door, sliding in next to him. She looked troubled – but that melted off her face when she looked up and smiled beatifically at him.

'Hey,' he said, smiling in response. 'Fun night, huh? Lucy asked me to be in the next show, as well.'

Schuyler nodded happily. 'Sophia told me Lucy is taking all the girls out to give herself an excuse to fire them. So you and I are kind of lucky.'

Jack pulled out into traffic, looking carefully in the mirrors. 'Really.' He didn't sound convinced. 'I doubt that's true. The show went so well! She'd be mad to fire them.'

'Supposedly, she is,' Schuyler said quietly.

*****

_Well. Not really my best offerings, I'll admit. But I'll get back into it, promise. _

_*__ By the way, what month would it be if it was autumn in America? Nearly winter. October, maybe?_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: Oh Mimi, it's Before Your Eyes

**Khaase: For you. Let me know it's better or not**_**.**_

_Reviews are, as always, welcome. xx_

Jack pulled out into traffic, looking carefully in the mirrors. 'Really.' He didn't sound convinced. 'I doubt that's true. The show went so well! She'd be mad to fire them.'

'Supposedly, she is,' Schuyler said quietly.

Mimi had been in Paris for all of three days before she declared herself bored. Pierre, the owner of the hotel she frequented, made several (increasingly desperate) suggestions. Opera? Miss Force loved the opera, no? _No._ A relaxing stroll on the Champs Elysees? _Mind-numbing._ Shopping, perhaps? _Over it._ Of course, when the infamous Madeline Force declared herself incapable of shopping, drastic measures must be taken.

Pierre had hastily briefed the pilots of the Force Jet. They would be flying out to Brazil. When? In an hour, of course.

Mimi stretched out luxuriously in the wide leather seat, feeling the jolt of landing shudder through the plane and into her bones. At last, somewhere _fun_. She so enjoyed the tropics. Why on earth had she even _considered_ tiresome France? The Force family made a point of escaping to exotic and generally sandy places when life got too complicated. Someone could make a whole book out of little mottos followed by Manhattan's finest. When the going gets tough, page the pilot. _Not exactly Hallmark_.

A quick peek out of the round window proved most welcome. Turquoise sky, bright sunlight; and one of the finer featured Brazilian red bloods was waiting by the door to accompany her to his family's villa. If he lived up to the brief glance she caught of him from the window, she thought she'd be eager to let him escort her anywhere. A willing distraction was just what she needed.

Schuyler's phone buzzed angrily in the back pocket of her jeans. God, every time it went off, she started nervously. Maybe she should do what Jack did and turn it off. He checked his messages only once a day – if that. Much to the frustration of his many connections.

One missed call from an unknown number. Schuyler pressed 'call', wondering who on earth it could be. At Block122 the week before, all of Mimi's friends had put their numbers in – they had passed her phone around to what had seemed like the whole club. At the time it had been funny – less so now, when she got random texts from strangers, all saying things like 'ohmygod sky we luvved the show call me!' Occasionally with a picture of two grinning tweens attached.

The phone rang – once, twice, three times.

'Hello?' The person on the other end was slurring her speech, and the connection was crackly – occasionally punctured by a brief burst of loud dance music. 'Hello? Who is this?'

'Schuyler. Did you call me?'

'Sky-lar? Ha, that's a funny name.' Whoever it was, they were definitely trashed. She'd probably dialled Schuyler's number by mistake

'Right. Sorry.' Just before she could hang up, the girl shrieked something unintelligible at her.

'What?'

'God, listen much? Katie told me to tell you Sophia said to...' someone in the background said something muffled. 'Right. To tell you to watch out for a silver something. The Ring? Wait, no, the _Reng_.'

Schuyler was blank, trying to decipher this garbled message. But then she got it. Of _course_. Sophia, the model. The one thing they had in common. 'The Wren?' she asked. 'Is that what she said?'

'Whatever, dude. That was the message.' The connection was severed. Schuyler stood still in the bustling street, cell phone still pressed to her ear, the dial tone sounding strangely ominous.

Carlos had turned out to be very willing. And a gorgeous distraction. But only for a few hours, and when it was over, Mimi couldn't help but feel the emptiness of not-Jack fill her. Self-pity wasn't something she was familiar with. She didn't sit around and mope. There were careful plans to lay, people's lives to ruin. There was always another way to acquire whatever it was she wanted.

In this case, it would be Jack's love. But the same principle had been applied in childhood. Like in fourth grade when she hadn't been picked for the school play. Her father had pulled some strings – and she'd been cast a role in an A-grade Hollywood drama. To rave reviews, of course. Jack used to tease her, asking how many people she'd bribed to write nice things about her.

Or in sixth grade, when she'd wanted the only pair of spring-season Manolo Blahnik shoes in existence. Her mother had called her team of personal shoppers and ordered them not to sleep until they had the shoes. In her daughters' size. Forty-eight hours later, the ten-thousand dollar heels were hand delivered by a bleary eyed gentleman who thanked her mother fervently when she dismissed him.

And that time, just this year, when Bliss and the rat had an advertisement of them in Times Square. Daddy had given her the position of the new face of Force News, and her _own_ billboard.

Further thought would have to go into this situation – but reminiscing on her ingenuous childhood had given her fresh hope. There was a pattern in these successes, she knew it. And it wouldn't take her long to find it. The clue was in her memories – her past lives, as much as this one. Thousands of years of history would not be obliterated by one rash act with a rat-faced infant.

Then town car had been waiting outside Duchesne for just five minutes when Jack and Schuyler materialized together at the top of the front steps. The many employees of the Force family knew enough about the family now not to mention Mimi's conspicuous disappearance. She'd be back. But, in the meantime, they could enjoy the peace and relative safety her absence brought. The new girl, they agreed, was well mannered and kind-hearted. She made her own bed, and picked up things so her maid wouldn't have to. So far, no-one had seen her throw things, have a tantrum, or even raise her voice.

As always, Jack open the back door for her, only climbing after her when she was safely inside. _Who said chivalry was dead?_ Their driver watched the pair of them out of the corner of his eye in the rear view mirror. They were holding hands, both looking extremely happy. Clearly, they were a couple. Perhaps that was why his twin had run off. She was jealous. There was something weird about those Force kids, though. Everyone knew it. They didn't act... _right_, for siblings.


End file.
